solace

I don’t want to write as if I have a good command of English. I feel so unpolished, so lousy, so sub-standard. Sometimes, I try to improve by attempting to sugarcoat my blog entries with bombastic words. I try very hard, but what I write just doesn’t ring a bell. Something is missing and I’ve concluded that I will never be able to make it.

There are so many things in life that I wish I never did. Some within my control, some just happened. It almost seems that I can never stop messing up my life. I hate to be like any other lost kid who writes to ‘Teenage’ magazine asking for help from dearest Kelly, but I know I sound like one now, totally.

‘What about the things you’ve done right and you’ve achieved?’ ‘who cares?’ No, you didn’t get me. I said, ‘Who cares?’

I have many goals in life, but I do nothing to achieve them. I sit and dream and blame the world about my lack of success. Oh what a joke. I abhor poverty. I am poor that’s why I am not successful. Lousy excuse, but good reason to bellow in sadness. Did I also mention that I suspect I am not very clever? Maybe I really need God to help me.

Now, I know I need God. But does God help a bad Christian? If God doesn’t, then I will never be successful. If the opposite is true, then the classic question will never fail to surface, ‘does that mean I can go killing people and ask for God’s forgiveness?’ no and yes, I don’t know.

Why must so many mishaps happen to my family? ‘Count yourself fortunate. There are many out there worse off than you.’ Right. That does not help a single bit because circumstances are imminent and they make me giddy. I am feeling giddy now. Besides, I only ask for a happy, healthy family. Too much?

I’m bored. And I’m boring. ‘Oh no, that sounds bad already. No girlfriend?’

Can somebody, anybody tell me the reason for war, bird flu, tsunamis, earthquakes, divorce, cancer and human politics.

‘Are you depressed, dude?’ you mean I am entitled the chance to be depressed? Wait, what are the symptoms of depression? Nah, I am not depressed. Really. ‘But reading this blog entry tells me something is really wrong with you.’ Really? Haha, you’ve got great imagination.

I’m fine. The World’s fine.

I need Prozac.
Wrong

I seek Solace.

________
Morinaga's Milk Caramel Candy
Have you tried it?
And do you know where to get it in Singapore?

$

'i abhor poverty.'


Here's a hypothetical:

you're heading for a final year paper, one that will determine whether or not you score well enough to earn your degree. despite poverty, you struggled and studied hard all year round just for this day. you have always believed that one day, your persistence and hard work will earn you a panacea, one that will break you free from the vicious cycle.

you're well prepared for the test. you can almost feel liberation. soon you can lift your head high. you will find a good job. you will never have to worry about bread and butter anymore.

the bus arrives, you hop onto it.

the crowd seems different today. Mr Woods is not at the driver's seat today. 'who's this new driver?' the girl that smiles at you every morning is not on board. 'perhaps she's late because of the thick snow.' mrs smith and her huge shopping basket is no where to be found. 'maybe she's not feeling well this morning.' something's just different. you decide that all the late night mugging and information cramped in your head must have taken it's toll on you.

you cannot afford a car unlike many of your classmates. you cannot afford to even ride on a Taxi. you smile at the bus driver every morning; whispering under your breath, 'my good chauffeur, send me to school.'

as you dream of poverty-no-more and watch the snow through the window, you drift into neverland.

you take this bus everyday. you know the route inside out. you even know when to wake up from your daily morning naps so as to alight just at the faithful old bus stop outside Oxford.

it's almost time.

you open your eyes intuitively. instead of the faithful old bus stop, you're welcomed with a dreadful scene.

'where is this?'

you're panicking. you lug all your books with you and ruffle your feet to the unknown driver.

'where is this, sir? is this bus 7?'

'this is Keith's town. you're on board bus 5, young man.'

'how far away are we from Oxford University?'

'quite very far. at least an hour away.'

you check your watch. 8.30am. you're exasperated. your paper starts at 9.00am. you feel giddy. you open your wallet and a measly $5 note stared back at you.

you need at least $20 to take a Taxi to University. you drop your books to the ground as you fall to the ground. you feel your head throbbing. you feel cold. more bitter than cold actually.

you fail. maybe you didn't work hard enough. no, maybe it's the snow.



they say to err is human, isn't it. but do all human have an equal chance to make mistakes? can some 'afford' to make mistakes?
what do you think?

did i mention i abhor poverty?




______
i passed my Final Theory Test today in 1 sitting.
im not stupid.